


It got Messy

by nameless_sovereign



Series: Song Fics [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_sovereign/pseuds/nameless_sovereign
Summary: Mickey and Ian had a rocky relationship, but in the end they had their happily ever after.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Song Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185971
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	It got Messy

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for KretikaPillai [ #12 ] for the Gallavich Gift Giving Game 2020
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this, i had a blast writing it :>
> 
> song from this link >> https://www.tiktok.com/@avenuebeat/video/6869415323662028037?lang=en

**I didn’t know you knew how to break a heart so good**  
**To push and pull and twist the knife like the bad guy would**

It was a screaming match. On would never be loud enough. It had been building up for months now, it had to be. With how big this explosion and how insignificant that starter was. Ian had pretty much eaten the last of the cereal and left less than a quarter of a bowl.

“I’m just saying that if you-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now!”

Eyebrows raised, fists clenched. They didn’t physically fight anymore. They had moved past that. They solved things the South Side way, screaming at each other than had they been anywhere else the police would’ve been there for a noise complaint. They fought messily, sometimes Mickey wished they didn’t use their words. When they fought with their fists Ian doesn’t say that his mother was the lucky one for leaving before getting trapped with a selfish Milkovich. Every pain Mickey feels is physical, and it will bruise and heal and then he can forget about it. Mickey wished that instead of his throat tightening as he saw the tension release from Ian’s shoulder, the fight completely draining out of him, he could instead just apologize as he helped patch him up, wipe away the blood and tears. With words he was at a loss. Mickey just gets to stare at Ian almost calmly walking away. The words of how Ian constantly needed someone else to take care of him just like his mother was too far. You can’t go too far in a physical fight. The worst part, Mickey was sure, was that it was just empty words. If he truly meant them it could at least be somewhat healing, like release then they could move on. Each one addressing the issues the other had, but these were glass shards with the sole purpose of pain. They sought out the soft skin of the other and tore at it until they bled out. 

The words weighed heavy on his tongue as his throat made his breath deep and weezy. Perhaps they were just yelling that loudly. Maybe- He had to STOP! Stop. Because if he didn’t Mickey was going to cry, more than he already was. Because these words cut deeper than any knife could. They cut into his soul. They slashed at his heart, cutting away at the thin barrier that kept all of his insecurities at bay. That kept the tears at bay. 

The door slammed shut. The only emotional reaction that Mickey received. Mickey thinks he would rather had Ian just punch him and tell him to shut up rather than walk away. Because, as angry as he was with him, it scared him, terrified him, that Ian was in such a vulnerable state and just roaming around somewhere that Mickey couldn’t protect him. 

He stood in their kitchen, staring at the spot where Ian once stood in the living room. A bitter smile coming up from when Ian and him had the house to themselves as all those years ago. They were playful horny teenagers so caught up in one another that the rest of the world simply stopped existing. They were just two idiots in love really. 

“We’re really fucked up.” Mickey said to the empty room. 

**I don’t want you to unlearn me yet**

Their fight was a month ago and Mickey had made him dinner and had their favorite movie ready to play on the TV. They both apologized, and things slowly shifted back to normal. Ian made Mickey breakfast the next morning, and they were good. Happy. They had gotten better at talking things out and fights like those had become so rare that the one before that had already faded from Ian's memory. What instead had become the worst things in their relationship, to Ian at least, were the days when he was low. 

The soft way Mickey could pet his hair. The way he figured out every tick Ian had that showed that he wasn’t doing good made his heart swell. The way he spent more time on Ian learning which vitamins were best for his ups or downs than he ever spent in his four years of high school combined. Mickey had studied everything about him and Ian loved it. He had spent so much of his life taking care of himself and his siblings. Rarely had he ever been able to be taken care of. The warm cocoon of blankets, cool when Mickey would walk into the room every hour or so to tell him how much he loved him, and somehow fought down every intrusive thought without ever being told what they were. He would bring in a cold water bottle, and a couple of pills, or a sandwich, whatever Ian needed at the time. 

“Com’on,” Mickey grunted as he helped Ian sit up, “I know you wanna sleep but you gotta eat it’s been three hours, and Doc says that if you're eating so little, you gotta eat closer together.” Ian’s head lulled to the side as he pressed into the junction of Mickey’s neck and shoulder receiving a kiss to the forehead. Mickey had a timer set up in the kitchen whenever this happens. If Ian is down for longer than three days with no sign of getting better, especially if it followed a series of really high days, then he’ll have to go to the doctor to get his meds checked. Today was day two.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, I know you’re not hungry, doesn’t mean you can’t eat,” Mickey held out a granola bar. He used to try enticing Ian with healthy food with a lot of nutrients, but they got messy and Ian could never eat all that much so he started going for something that Ian tended to eat mindlessly while doing something else in hopes that habits will kick in and let him eat it all. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything. I chose to take care of your sorry ass.” He playfully smiled, although the conflict was clear in his eyes. Ian knew that Mickey was concerned and he wished he wasn’t this way wished he-

“Hey,” Mickey nudged his shoulder, “I love you, alright, I love everything about you, I wouldn’t want you any different, got it.” Ian didn’t respond, but Mickey nudged him again to receive a nod of reluctant agreement, “Good, because I love you.” Ian needed to be told that he was loved during times like this. Mickey knew that. Mickey knew him. Mickey had learned everything about him and it made Ian absolutely wild. 

**I’m glad that it got messy**  
**I’m glad that this is war and we fought petty**

It was the morning and Mickey’s whole body was sore, as was Ian’s but he hadn’t been with Fanny a majority of yesterday chasing around the excited little girl. He awoke with a soft kiss on his shoulder. He tiredly grumbled and rolled over, closer to Ian, but the side of the bed was cold and empty. Not what he was expecting, causing him to hastily move back into his pocket of warmth a glance to the empty spot. He could hear Ian chuckling. He peaked open his eyes to glare at the madly grinning redhead, but he leaned down and caged him in between his arms, sweetly kissing him.

“Come back to bed, it’s too cold.” Mickey grumbled, chasing Ian’s lips as he pulled away, but Ian kept moving away, “What if I say please?”

“Maybe then I can make an exception.”

“Please,” Mickey smiled, ready for Ian to come back to bed and cuddle with him, but Ian didn’t.

“I said maybe,” Ian’s shit-eating grin was only met by a cold glare from Mickey who was still wrapped up in bed, slowly pushing himself further beneath the covers to where only his eyes were really seen, like a crocodile pouting because the pretty zebra wouldn’t step close enough to the water for him to trap him and force him into cuddling, “You need to get up soon if you want to eat a warm breakfast,” Mickey still didn’t move, but Ian pecked his head and added, as he started putting on his clothes for the day, “And for fresh coffee.” Mickey with very loud grumbled slowly and reluctantly started groping for his robe that was usually hanging on one of the posts of the bed, but it had been left by their closet and Ian, being nice for once, gave it to him laughing slowly at how Mickey was always so reluctant to wake up. It was practically their routine every morning: Mickey tries to sleep in, Ian teases him for a while then taunts him with fresh coffee, Mickey complains but gets up, then they’ll eat breakfast together. 

They had their ups and downs, but both would agree that it is worth it. Everything was worth it.

**Because that means at least you won’t forget me**

Ian had to get his meds rebalanced. His depressive episodes were happening more often and for longer periods of time. Ian hated doing this to Mickey, he hated Mickey having to deal with him being depressed even more though. It makes him want to scream. It was like he could do nothing right. Like he was in a constant loop of destroying Mickey over and over again with his own fucked up mind. Some days he wished Mickey would just forget about him. Would just leave him in the hospital indefinitely.

“Can you explain further about how you and Mickey deal with your episodes?” The woman sitting across from him asked. Mickey had a death grip on Ian’s hand, and was leaning into his space. Ian knew that those thoughts aren’t justifiable. That his understanding of reality is distorted. Mickey hated having him here because he worried for Ian’s safety. He knew Mickey loved him despite the diagnosis, loved him with the diagnosis. 

“Uh, yeah, we have a schedule that we stick to when it’s really bad and of those last longer than three days then we call you, Doc.” Mickey shrugged, his thumbs rubbing against Ian’s hand, “I already emailed you the schedule when we did the appointment, what else do you need to know?” Mickey’s tone edged on defensive, but it only made Ian softly smile at the spot on the carpet that he had zeroed in on. He hated these sessions, he knew that he was supposed to be able to trust her and that there shouldn’t be any barriers between them, but he couldn’t help it. 

The meeting was long and exhausting, despite Mickey doing most of the talking. But the worst part were the goodbyes. He stood getting ready to cross the boundary between freedom and imprisonment. At least when he was in prison he was either high on manic spree, or with Mickey. This was only for a few weeks though, estimating high. 

He stared at Mickey, breaths coming out short and sharp, “I’ll be okay,” Mickey promised, “I’ll visit you every chance I can, and then when you get out we can go get you some good food and do whatever you want.” Mickey eyes darted over Ian’s face, memorizing every line, every inch, every molecule. He wished that he didn’t need to do this, but- but he had to. He had to. He. Had. To. Ian knew that. He knew it, so he would. 

“Yeah.” His voice was breathy as his eyes darted from the nurse to Mickey. She was waiting on him, and he had to hurry up, because the sooner he got in the sooner he’d be out. Ian leant down to press a kiss to Mickey’s lips, pushing all his love and fear, and everything into the kiss, “I love you.” He spoke against Mickey’s lips. Mickey pressed a small kiss against the corner of mouth, “I love you too.” Ian could hear in his voice that he wished he didn’t have to leave Ian alone, and that made Ian feel a little better. 

Ian was only in there for a week and a half. One of the second adjustments they tried worked wonders, and they kept him just to be sure that he really was stable. Mickey had visited him three times while he was in there. But still, nothing compared to the joy of seeing him waiting for him as he left. 

“Hey,” Mickey had a dopey grin. He couldn’t suppress it. It always terrified him when Ian needed to be hospitalized for a while. It didn’t happen very often, but with how long they’ve been together it is practically inevitable for it to never happen. The way Ian looked at him made his chest flutter as he practically collapsed into his arms, hugging him tight enough that breathing was a bit difficult, but that was okay. Mickey didn’t mind. 

“I missed you.” Ian mumbled into the juncture of Mickey’s neck and shoulder and he pushed further into his warmth. Mickey’s hands were in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he returned the sentiment, kissing Ian’s head. He had missed him so much. So many mornings he would accidentally pour two cups of coffee instead of one, Or he’ll try to wake Ian up, forgetting that he’s not sleeping in, but somewhere else entirely.

“I missed you so fucking much.” Mickey chuckled, not because this was any sort of a joke, because who would've ever guessed that the two boys who had begun with such a toxic relationship could become so functional. That the boy who had been terrified of his sexuality and refused to kiss the boy he was head of heels for could ever openly hug and kiss him while saying how he felt. It was bizarre, but whatever terrible things brought them there. Brought them to each other. Brought them such mutual love and adoration was worth it. Whatever pain they suffered together, Mickey would do it a million times over if he could keep Ian in his arms forever.

They started out messy, but they are oh, so perfect now.


End file.
